


Home is where you are

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 6x13, Angst, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, F/M, Fix-It, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Sarge is Trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: 6x13 redo, AU from there. Less suffering for May. Phil comes back. They heal each other.
Relationships: Melinda May & Sarge | Pachakutiq (Marvel), Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Comments: 11
Kudos: 85





	Home is where you are

**Author's Note:**

> I had it in my head that we were going to get Phil back. I guess kudos to the writers for the....shock. But I want Phil back and I'm so sick of seeing May suffering. The whole thing was so depressing. This is my therapy and I hope it can be yours too. Please enjoy.
> 
> The things that happen in the finale are slightly altered in this.

It was working. She was getting through to him. There was hesitation behind his eyes. Izel may have some sort of hold over the thing inside of him, but she had a bigger one over Phil. All she had to do was make him remember. It had worked before.  
  
She'd seen that hint of Phil outside the temple. The way he'd attempted to joke had been all Phil. He was there and she could bring him out.  
  
She took a step closer, capturing his attention. "Remember me. Remember us," she encouraged him. The team. He loved every single person on the team; they were like family. She could help him remember with reminders. "Daisy. Mack and Yo-Yo. Fitz and Simmons." There were so many memories. A least six years worth of them with Daisy and Fitzsimmons.  
  
"You love us." The _'you love me'_ went unspoken.  
  
Their eyes locked.  
  
"You're right. It's love." Sarge’s tone softened.  
  
Finally, she had him. The relief was unmatched by anything she'd ever experienced. It had been so long - too long since she felt the comfort of his presence. It was back.

Breathing in and blinking away the tears she nodded. "Yes," she agreed.  
  
Sarge placed a hand on her upper bicep. A light touch as he spoke. "The pain is love and now I know how to end it." There was something off about him then.  
  
She looked him in the eye. A blackness had clouded over his pupils and his jaw pulsed.  
  
Turning into a bruising force, his fingers tightened and squeezed over her muscle. There was nothing familiar about him anymore. All hint of the man she loved was gone. Another being was winning some inner battle inside of him and soon would rear its ugly face.  
  
"Sarge," she warned.  
  
The grip he had on her arm did not lighten and she began to panic. Fighting against him would only bring the demon out - the very thing that had been a constant struggle for him to control. Her mind flashed to the handprint he'd bashed into the metal table. If that had been an accident there was no telling what he could be capable of doing on purpose. With a well-placed squeeze he could potentially shatter every bone in her arm.  
  
Something came through the portal at her left and brushed against her shoulder. It lingered nearby like a person standing next to her, but she didn't dare take her eyes off of Sarge. Instead, she tensed and prepared to defend herself from both sides.  
  
Sarge's eyes widened in their sockets as he focused on the thing by her side. Almost crushing her arm now, Sarge attempted to tug her forward. "I'm cutting you out," he growled at her. All hint of humanity had dissipated. It was clear now that he intended to hurt her.  
  
"Don't touch her." It was Phil's voice but Sarge's mouth hadn't moved. It had come from the thing on her left. From the being that came through the portal. That confused her even more.  
  
A familiar blue light flashed in front of her. Reaching her eye-level, it arced like a half moon. Its familiarity captured her attention. She knew that light well - had seen it a handful of times as it saved her life. It was Phil's blue shield, but she didn't understand how it could possibly be here.  
  
An electronic zing rang out. She looked down. The sword in Sarge's hand was pointed at her midsection, but the shield blocked it from making contact with her body. Sarge's face screwed up in annoyance. He reared the blue length back and swiftly jabbed towards her, attempting to penetrate the shield. Again, with no luck.  
  
The shield surged up and forward, slamming into Sarge's face. His head snapped back. The grip on her arm broke off. He was knocked off his feet and into the dirt. The sword clattered to the ground.  
  
"That's for stealing my face you son of a bitch." It was Phil's voice again and he was angry.  
  
She turned towards the voice - the figure that had come from the portal. To her shock it was Phil and he was staring right at her. Her body froze up at the sight. The shirt he had on was achingly familiar. A light blue button up, there was no way she could ever forget it. It was the shirt he was wearing when he died.  
  
 _Not again_ , she thought. How could there be two of them? Had a second body gone through to Izel's home world allowing another being to latch on? None of it made sense, but things rarely did anymore.  
  
Looking at him was like witnessing a ghost take form. All she could do was watch as if she was a spectator to her own life. Everything happened in slow motion. For a moment she thought he might be here to make the final blow. That he'd reach straight into her chest and rip her heart right out. Sarge had betrayed her and this one was here to do the same.  
  
"May grab the sword," the new Phil said as he continued to hold his shield up to protect himself. With the opposite arm he pulled a gun from his waistband and shot out in rapid succession behind her.  
  
She turned in time to see Izel falter mid-step, a round of bullets lodged in her chest. Mere bullets wouldn't hold her back for long. The sword was the key to stopping her.  
  
Sarge kicked out, swiping Phil's feet out from under him. His arm struck the ground on the fall. The shield went out like a dying light. Sarge got a hand on Phil's ankle and dragged him close. They struggled against one another like two twins wrestling. But she knew better than that. Sarge was something more underneath the skin. With an unnatural strength, he quickly got the upper hand over Phil and wrapped a hand around his neck.  
  
"You've made a mistake," Sarge growled. It was unlike anything she'd ever heard. Something that she imagined the devil would sound like. A deep, dark guttural tone originating from a different place. That was the real Sarge: whatever thing had been underneath the whole time. The being that Izel wanted to wake up.  
  
Despite the tight grip against his throat, Phil fought. His face was turning red from lack of oxygen. The blue shield was up again and digging into Sarge's cheek. Parts of Sarge's human form singed off, floating into dust around the two of them, revealing a slimy gray creature with beady eyes underneath.  
  
Springing into action, she ran forward and grabbed the sword from the dirt.  
  
The Phil pinned to the ground with a claw digging into his throat was most likely not her Phil. But whoever he was had helped her and Sarge was killing him. There was a choice to make and she chose to save him. No matter what was going on - whoever he was she couldn't stand by and watch him get murdered. She kicked out at Sarge's side, knocking him off of Phil. The moment's relief left Phil gasping.  
  
All she felt was rage. Nothing Sarge had said or did had been real. Her instincts had been right at the beginning. She should've finished him off that first time in his truck, but the face had softened her. It didn't now. For the first time she was seeing what he truly was underneath it all. A rotten creature. He'd played her then tried to kill her and now she wanted him dead.  
  
Raising the sword above her head, she prepared to slice through it - to end this. Before she could strike, something hit her in the back and came through her stomach. All the breath was knocked out of her at once.  
  
 _"No!”_ Phil yelled from his place on the ground. She looked to him and saw his eyes blown wide in terror.  
  
 _I've been shot_ , she thought.  
  
Breathing burned her insides. Tears sprung in her eyes from the waves of pain. She looked down. There was something protruding from her body. A piece of metal was lodged deep in her upper stomach. She saw the tip and at least five additional inches poking out of her - Sarge's weapon - but couldn't process how the sword had impaled her when she still had it in her hand. There was red wetness dripping off the edges. In disbelief, she stared at it with the knowledge that it was her blood staining the metal.  
  
And then the metal disappeared, plunging back into her body. The pain increased tenfold. It felt like a giant's fist had gathered all of her insides together and was attempting to rip them through her back. Horrified, she realized that someone was pulling the sword back from behind. Agony raced through her veins. All she knew was pain. It was blinding. She could barely hold herself up.  
  
"No. No!" Distantly she heard Phil screaming.  
  
Knowing it may be her last chance, she looked at him one more time. He was panicking, pushing at the thing Sarge had turned into as he attempted to get to her. All hope had been extinguished from him. It was rare to see that expression on his face. Only in their darkest times had she witnessed it.  
  
"Goodbye, love," a whisper floated in her ear. It was Izel. Melinda had forgotten all about her.  
  
A hard shove to the back came and she was tossed through the swirling light inside the stone temple. Wherever she landed, the ground came up fast and hard. Her hands barely broke her fall. It was like landing on a solid sheet of ice. The force slammed into her wound. She screamed, crying out in agony.  
  
It was cold. The air nipped at her. Shivers racked her body. Curling up into a ball to protect her middle, she settled on her side. Even that movement pulled at the split skin in her back. The slice burned through her all over again. Immobilized by the fire in her stomach, she lay there frozen and shaking. Blood pooled underneath her. The cotton of her shirt was beginning to soak it up and spread out.  
  
There was something evil in this space. Her senses may have been dimmed, but it was a powerful force. A presence lingered, but she couldn't do anything about it. She couldn't feel the tips of her fingers anymore. It was the shock settling in. Her eyelids grew heavy and darkness took over.  
  
The next thing she knew, someone was moving her. She was wet. It felt like she'd fallen in a puddle of warm paint and while she'd laid there someone had built an igloo around her. Every cell was encased in cold and she was shaking hard.  
  
"Melinda. Melinda. Open your eyes. Hey. Hey. Look at me. Come on."  
  
A warm hand tapped against her cheek. There was not enough strength inside of her to even take a peek.  
  
A pressure grew on her stomach. An anguished cry burst from her mouth. She wanted to curse or punch whoever it was in the face.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I have to stem the flow."  
  
With more effort than she'd ever put into anything, she pried her eyes open. The world was a mix of blurred colors. It was difficult to focus when everything was a swirl. She was sure she would be sick at any moment.  
  
"Come back, Melinda. Come back to me."  
  
She could make out a face hovering over her. No details were processed, just the general shape of it. She fought against the pull of unconsciousness. A strong force was trying to drag her under, but she was fighting it. It was like being held underwater by someone clinging to her back.  
  
Being surrounded by a familiar smell was enough to bring her around for a moment. The smell reminded her of the bedroom in Tahiti. The one she'd shared with Phil.  
  
 _Phil,_ she thought.  
  
She blinked up at him. Clear blue eyes stared back. He was there just like before in that same, familiar shirt. The one he'd worn that last day. She'd never be able to forget it.  
  
"Good. Good. Okay breathe. Just breathe," Phil coached her. She could feel the tremors in his palms when he touched her cheek. There was fear swirling within the blues of his eyes.  
  
How was he here with her? How was it possible? What was going on?  
  
 _"Wha-"_ The soft tissue inside her throat seized up.  
  
"Don't try to talk. Just focus on breathing." He spoke slowly, coaxing her.  
  
He cradled her head in the crook of his arm. After the initial discomfort of movement, it was nice. She missed him. The pain in her stomach didn't hurt as much anymore. As if drawing strength from him, it turned into a distant pang. The blur in her eyes faded as well. A slight smile grew on her lips in response to the comfort of him. Everything was better with him by her side again. Dying wasn't bad this way.  
  
It all made sense then. She was already dead. That had to be it. Or somewhere close to it - teetering in-between two worlds. It was the only explanation for him and for what he was wearing. She couldn't come up with any other possibility. He was here to help guide her through the end.  
  
But everything felt so real. The smell. The warmth. The physical presence. No matter how many times she'd tried to imagine him she'd never been as successful as this.  
  
"Am I dead?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
"No. You're alive. We're both alive," he said while brushing the sweat-soaked hair away from her eyes.  
  
That conclusion made the least sense out of every possibility. Steadying herself, she swallowed past the coppery taste in her mouth. "Where....did you...come from?" Asking the question left her breathless and sucking in air.  
  
"It doesn't matter right now. We just have to get through this and I'll explain everything."  
  
That answer did not satisfy her nearly enough. If there was one thing she did not like, it was when people were being purposefully dodgy. The lack of knowledge made her restless. He knew that about her. He knew and still he'd done exactly that.  
  
A horrific thought came to her then. That maybe this was Sarge playing her again. Or Izel in the body. Clearly she couldn't be tasked with determining what was real versus fake. She wanted to believe in him more than anything and that was the exact problem. Sarge knew it and he'd been playing that to his advantage the whole time.  
  
"Let go." She told him, barely recognizing the sound as her own voice.  
  
The hand against her cheek stilled. "What?" He asked.  
  
"You're not him," she murmured. He had to stop touching her. She couldn't stand the thought of Sarge's hands on her. She began floundering on his lap, pushing against his hands.  
  
"It's _me_ , Melinda."  
  
"It's not." That knowledge hurt more than the stab to her torso. A year had passed since he'd died and she would have to let go of the hope that Sarge could ever be even a percentage of the man Phil once was. Setting her boots on the ground, she pushed down, attempting to get leverage for the rest of her body. White hot pain exploded everywhere. All the strength left her then.  
  
"Take it easy. You're going to hurt yourself, May," he said, alarmed and reaching for her again.  
  
This time she slapped his hands away. " _Don't touch me_ ," she ordered, then hated the desperation in her voice. Who was she against him now? A woman more than halfway dead against someone like him...it...whatever or whoever he really was.  
  
She couldn't even look at him. The panic clawed at her. She had to get away from him. Hissing through the pain, she rolled off of his lap and landed on the flat ground again. It left her face down in the dirt and whimpering. She shook against the feeling of barbed wire being threaded through her middle.  
  
"Melinda, stop it. Please stop. It's me," he said gentle as ever.  
  
 _Shut up_ , she thought, gritting her teeth. It didn't matter what he said. Phil was long dead and this was torture. Sarge knew exactly how much she wanted Phil back. _I'm not the man you love_ , his words from a day ago came ringing like an alarm bell in her ears. It was a complete contrast to how he was now.  
  
It took everything inside of her to pull her face out of the dirt and turn away from him. She bit the insides of her mouth to keep from crying out. That didn't stop the tears born of pure pain from escaping her eyes. She was glad he couldn't see her face.

They sat in uncomfortable silence. The only sound was her shuddering breaths as she tried to keep her heart rate down. The entire time she waited for his hands to somehow settle on her again, but they didn't. He stopped trying to touch her.  
  
"You never gave up on me...I know you didn't. Fitz told me," he said, finally breaking the silence.  
  
That was true and Sarge knew that better than anyone. It was only another trick to break her heart.  
  
She tried getting up. The weakness in her body was too much. Without sparing him a glance, she slid back to the ground. Not one to give up, she dug her fingers into the hard layers of dirt. She swore she would drag her weight straight back to the portal if it meant dying away from him.  
  
"Parasailing," he said with purpose.  
  
That word made her halt in place, still with her back to him. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks.   
  
"It was the most important thing on my bucket list and the first thing we did in Tahiti," he said, voice thick with desperation. She didn't think Sarge was capable of that.  
  
It captured her attention. Parasailing was their code. A rush of memories came to her then. She remembered what it felt like during their first time together. It wasn't just sex. It was love. It was the consummation of every feeling between them. There was no way for Sarge to know that. No one knew but the two of them. But still how could she just trust him after everything that had happened?  
  
Pushing past the pain, she turned around. "Say something else," she said with watchful eyes trained on his face.  
  
"You said it was worth the wait," echoing her previous quip the morning after. "And you had this smile. I wanted....I wanted to see that smile everyday...for as long as I could." He inhaled sharply. "I told you I loved you for the first time...even though I knew it would destroy both of us when the end came. I couldn't help it." A fond smile spread on his face for a moment, then faded, making way for the pain again. His eyes were glassy. The same as hers.  
  
It was all true. Everything he'd said had happened. But to hope...there was so much hope and it was continuously squashed. She couldn't afford to hope anymore, but she had to know. Reaching up to brush his face, yet only able to skim his knee, she asked: "It's really you?"  
  
He covered her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Yes. It's really me."  
  
There were more questions than answers now. But it didn't seem to matter. She believed in him. She believed in them. Relief came in an instant, like a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Tears slipped down her face faster than ever before. "I missed you so much. I love you," she cried.  
  
"I love you too," he said through his own tears. He shuffled closer, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. The familiarity of the gesture that she'd been starved of for too long caused a warmth to bloom in her chest.  
  
After a minute of simply holding each other close he broke the silence. "We can't stay in this place. Come on.” He stood, then lifted her up slowly. Her legs could barely support her body, which had her leaning against him heavily. He didn't seem to mind. He paused and took her face between his hands, brushing the wetness there with the tips of his thumbs. "You're going to be okay," he told her. It was as if he was convincing himself too.  
  
As she got her bearings, she spotted movement from above. Along the archway above the shimmering portal light, stood three cloaked figures.  
  
"Phil," she said, alarmed.  
  
Speaking with their eyes like they'd done many times before in the field, he followed her eyeline. He rushed them to the side of the stone. They stopped close enough to see light dancing within the portal.  
  
He bent down and grabbed the sword that had somehow made its way in here. It left a spray of red imprinted in the dirt – a terrible, bloody outline. "Here," he whispered, handing her the gun from his waistband. "This might not stop them, but it'll get my attention. Shoot if you need me."  
  
"Wh- where are you going?" She asked, her arm rested against her stomach like she was holding herself together.  
  
"Ending this. Stay here."  
  
A terrible thought entered her mind then. What if he didn't come back? She was the specialist not him. Before he could break away, she grabbed onto him clinging to his forearm. "Don't go, _please_." It was difficult to relinquish control. To have someone else take care of things.  
  
"It's okay. Fitz told me what to do about them," he assured her. There was a confidence in him that she easily recognized. She'd seen it inside him right before dozens of missions. In that moment he ceased being Phil and became Agent Coulson once again. "You have to trust me, May."  
  
Her grip slackened. And because of their decades long trust she let him go. Watching him leave again made it harder to breathe, but she tracked him as far as her body would allow her to stretch without tugging at the wound.

After less than a minute she was unable to support her weight any longer and slid down the rock wall. She barely registered the gun clacking as it fell from her right hand. Looking down, she inspected the rip in her shirt. Everything underneath hurt like hell, yet it felt better than before. Wincing, she fought to rid herself of her leather jacket. It clung to her arms, tight as a straitjacket. After what felt like an eternity she got it off and held it as a compress.

A bone rattling cold swept through the room. The same feeling from before came back. There was an inexplicable evil presence all around this place. A cold sweat broke out all over as she waited with bated breath for Phil to return. She tried not to imagine all the horrible things that could go wrong. Phil was all alone facing whatever things lurked in the shadows. There would be no backup for him. The optimist in him could pretend all he wanted, but they both knew that she was in no shape to help if he needed it.  
  
She thought back to what he'd said. That somehow Fitz told him how to deal with whatever else was here. When did that happen? It was just another thing about all this that she didn't understand.  
  
He came running back, gravel crunching loudly under his boots. "Hey. Hey. Let's get you out of here." His breathing was heavy.  
  
He lifted most of her body weight. As she stood the pain came back to her like the hard snap of a whip. She gripped onto his shirt tightly. It was damp. She released just as quickly. Horrified, her fingers came away warm and sticky. Her eyes widened at the sight of the deep red splattered all over his clothes.  
  
"What..." She trailed off, unable to form the right words. Her whole hand shook.  
  
"It's fine," he dismissed.  
  
But that was not enough assurance. Instead of comfort his words sent her into a panic. "You're hurt."  
  
 _Please no, not again._  
  
"No. I'm not." He grew quieter. "It's yours."  
  
It was as if someone suddenly spoke through a loudspeaker: _‘hey you're not okay’_. Seeing her blood soaked into his shirt served as a reminder of her injuries. She lost her balance.  
  
 _"Woah."_ Phil caught her. Supporting her weight and holding the sword with the same hand, he moved them towards the portal.  
  
After seeing him struggle, she reached for the sword. "I'll hold it." She could at least do that to free up his other hand.  
  
To her surprise, he didn't object, instead his muscles tensed against her. His pace slowed. Focused on the shimmering light, his eyes bulged in their focus. "No. Daisy..." He whispered.  
  
Through the rippling portal she saw the distorted image of Daisy and Izel. It was like she was watching them through a moving body of water. But it was clear enough to understand what was about to happen. Izel was behind Daisy with dual blades.  
  
"Turn around!" Phil yelled and moved them quickly forward.

There was no reaction from the other side. Daisy still had her back to them while Izel crept ever closer. That must be Izel’s way of operating, Melinda thought. She hid in the shadows like a coward and while everyone was distracted with something else she chose to strike, then claim victory.  
  
"Give me the sword," Phil said, still watching the portal closely.  
  
Deep in her heart she already knew what had to be done. Confident in her ability, she tightened the weapon in her grip. "I've got it." Hate fueled her now.  
  
"Meli-"  
  
"Phil," she cut him off. It was not up for debate.  
  
They stepped through the shimmering light and back into their world. In one fluid motion she brought the sword back and swung it up like an underhanded pitch. Every negative feeling she had stored up went into that lunge. The pointed metal drove easily through Izel's body.  
  
"Singing a different song now. Aren't you?" She whispered the words in Izel's ear, returning the favor. Izel froze. Vibrations from Izel's shoulder ran through Melinda's hand. Then there was nothing under her hand anymore. It was like Izel's body had turned to ash and fell apart all at once and with no evidence that she had ever existed. It brought Melinda some semblance of satisfaction after the hell that Izel had brought down on her.  
  
There were loud noises all around. Echoing and bouncing around the caves. She couldn't focus. All she knew was that her family was okay. Daisy was alive. Phil was alive. That was good. It was enough.  
  
Her own injury came back like a sudden hit from a seasoned linebacker. The change was instantaneous. She swore someone had jabbed a razor blade into her stomach and through her back, opening everything all over again. The sword slipped from her grip and clattered to the ground. Any energy she had left was sucked out of her. She fell against Phil. He caught her before she could go down. Blood trickled out of the side of her mouth. She could feel it not only filling her mouth but her stomach too. Like the damage had just happened and someone had turned a valve back on inside her. It was coming and it wouldn't stop until she was drained of every drop.  
  
"Hey. Hey. May," Phil called, while lowering her to the ground. "I need help here!" His voice was distant, garbled. "Fitz, where the hell are you?"  
  
This was much worse than before. At least then, in his arms she felt safe. She felt like he could save her. Barely able to think straight, she looked to Phil. The poorly concealed panic was easy enough to read. A deep exhaustion came over her. Something was tugging her down and she found that she couldn't fight it anymore. She bit down on her lip trying not to cry.

"Don't leave me," she whispered, trying to hold onto him for as long as she could, desperate to cling to him. The thought of never seeing him again terrified her. It was just their luck for him to come back as she lay dying.  
  
His palm came out to cradle her cheek. "I won't. I won't," he promised softly. "Just keep breathing, Melinda."  
  
They'd made an agreement back in Tahiti to start being honest with each other. He didn't lie about his worsening condition, so she wouldn't do that to him now.  
  
"I can't, Phil. I can't...." She trailed off, panting. It became too hard to keep her eyes open. It hurt to breathe. Warmth rushed out of her much quicker now. Tears slipped out and ran down the sides of her face. She just got him back and she was going to leave him. It solidified her thought that the two of them were just destined to be torn apart. It was written in the rules of the universe.  
  
"No, please." His hand gripped hers. There was a slight squeeze. "Stay with me," he begged.  
  
She tried. Really, she tried. For a moment she was able to focus on the pressure he delivered to her hand. Then the underwater pull from before came back. This time with a wave so big it covered her entire body, swallowing her at once.  
  
It ripped her away.

//ps she's not dead//

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback welcome, thank you for reading


End file.
